PART(ie) Hard

“What is aura?” begins the Professor of another boring class that Pinkie Pie and her team has to take.

His class is worse than the others she has taken, though, for his voice carries along the rows of the classroom like a calm, boring wave full of sleeping powder. Not only is his voice boring, but so is his entire being. At least the other professors had something to them, such as Daring Do's lax dress code and Rene Caballeron's rugged bookseller mentality. This guy, however, is about as interesting as a paperclip on a rice cake, and it is driving Pinkie Pie bonkers!

The Professor's toothpick posture is uptight, his white suit is somehow not choking him or cutting off the blood flow to his hands, and his necktie is tucked into his brown vest has a coffee stain on it that keeps drawing Pinkie Pie's attention. It looks like a donut. A chocolate donut. With frosting and sprinkles.

Pinkie Pie swallows the pooling drool in her mouth and looks at the clock. The seconds hand takes four seconds to move.

“Well,” says the Professor, “aura is a natural defense mechanism created by brain waves that form a shield around our bodies and enable us to use a specialized attack to dispose of foes.”

Pinkie Pie shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Normally she would be in uniform, but since the Student Council has elected this particular day to be Fun Friday uniforms have been made optional for the duration of the school day, and Pinkie Pie -as well as her team- has elected to go casual. For Pinkie Pie, wearing a white tanktop with a big pink heart and an unbuttoned blue shirt over it, her dark pink skirt, pink shoes with knee high socks that may or may not belong to Rarity, and a set of headphones around her neck that connect to her Walkman that is fitting snugly in her skirt pocket. There is also an ankle bracelet wrapped tightly on to her that leaves a constant, uncomfortable squeeze. Outfits aside, her cheek is squished against her fist and her pencil taps impatiently against her lined paper. On it is a doodle of her and Pinprick in a heart, and around the heart are flowers that turn into balloons, which then turn into tears, which then turn into flaming balls of cactus converging on a chicken.

“Though, how these brainwaves are able to create these retaliation mechanics is still a mystery, but research has shown progress in this field,” says the Professor. “For example, gems play a huge role in it for their energy amplification abilities, hence why gems are popular with weapons or items in general.”

Pinkie Pie can see Team FORT in the row below her. They too have the ankle bracelets, and Flash is casually jotting down information, Octavia has absolutely nothing on her paper, Rainbow Dash is rocking back and forth in her chair, and Twilight is scribbling notes down as fast as she can. They too have gone casual, but in Octavia's case casual is dressing to kill and Twilight's is dressing to be a prude. Rainbow Dash has gone sporty and Flash has settled with jeans and a t-shirt.

“Some speculate that aura has a correlation with one's personality, but the data is insufficient,” says the Professor. “But there are commonalities. Some examples include illusion, shell, energy manipulation, and crafting, just to name a few.”

Pinkie Pie glances at Applejack, who is wearing plaid shirt and boots, but instead of her jeans she is borrowing one of Pinkie Pie's skirts. She has claimed the aisle seat in a wheel chair with her leg propped straight out and her upper leg held in a brace. She has a nifty platform attached to the arm of her chair which she uses to keep her notes on. The agitation is clear in heavy eyes, small frown and constant flexing of her free hand. However, she does have a good supply of notes and in her chair bag are a few books of aura management.

“All aura has a basic shield level and healing level, which falls under the defense category, but the healing factor does not mend all wounds. Some are too severe and must be treated by other means,” continues the Professor.

Pinkie Pie looks at Rarity. Despite wearing a lovely purple dress with light blue gems lining her ribs, a dark cloud looms over her. Her hair, while still washed, hangs loose over her shoulders and eyes, no makeup, no jewelry and not even anything to decorate the purple sling her arm is trapped in, save for “Get well” messages from Pinkie Pie, Applejack, and Team FORT.

“As for the offensive level of aura, that is where it gets tricky,” says the Professor. “As I stated earlier there are common classes we found, but each one is unique to the specific person.”

Pinkie Pie groans quietly and leans over to see what Trixie is doing. Said person is next to Rarity and wearing her jeans, dress shirt and vest, but she has made a small wall using her books and is leaning back in her chair. From the front it looks like she is taking notes, but Pinkie Pie sees her using her notebook as a shield and platform for her phone catalog, which is now covered in circles and notes.

“Can anybody give me any examples of aura?” asks the Professor.

Pinkie Pie resumes her original position in tune with Twilight's hand shooting up.

“Yes, Ms. Sparkle?” says the Professor.

“Levitation,” says Twilight proudly.

“Yes, good. Anybody else?”

“Luck!” blurts Lucky from the back of the class.

The Professor points at Lucky. “No. That is wrong.”

The class snickers and Pinkie Pie's heavy eyes drift around the room. She hears a faint humming in the air and it brings a very uncomfortable feeling to her. Like invisible hands squeezing her throat and heart. Her ankle bracelet starts to beep and her fingers drum anxiously on her desk as her eyes dart every which way they can at the oblivious students and the décor around the classroom.

The melodic humming gets louder, and Pinkie Pie's heart beats faster, like a caged animal on a leash trying to escape. Her breathing becomes quicker, sharper and jagged and her palms are stabbed by dozens of invisible knives that force a pained wince from her. In a feeble attempt to block the pain she balls her hands into a fist, but as she curls her fingers the notebook rolls into a ball. Paper, cardboard, spine, all of it rolls perfectly into a circle.

With her hands balled up, Pinkie Pie stares at the ball flabbergasted, and when she unrolls her fingers the notebook unrolls, as well, leaving a wrinkle free perfection.

“Huh?” whispers Pinkie Pie.

She balls her hands and the notebook rolls up. She relaxes her hands and the notebook unfurls into its normal state.

The humming continues, and with it the ever tighter sense of suffocation. Pinkie Pie hyperventilates and looks side to side, partially relieved and partially worried that no one is seeing this oddity. She takes a deep breath and relaxes in her chair, but then her palms, pencil and notebook glow blue and the school supplies start to float up.

Pinkie Pie's eyes widen and she stiffens in her chair. She then looks at her hands and one heartbeat later she squeezes her hands shut and shoves them between her legs. Instantly, the notebook and pencil slam into the desk shatters and shatter it and the area in front of her feet. The sudden explosion of wood and snapping metal jolts Applejack and Rarity and causes the latter to scream and the former to swear. Everything then becomes silent, and with her hands still in between her legs.

The air becomes heavy and toxic as Pinkie Pie looks around the room with bulging eyes and a red hot face. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Rarity has pushed herself into Trixie, and Trixie is pale and bugged eyes and is gripping Rarity's arms and holding her in front of her like a meat shield. However, she quickly releases Rarity and turns away with her nose in the air when Rarity gives her an odd look.

“Excuse me, miss!” shouts the Professor.

Pinkie Pie's eyes snap to him and her body stiffens as she smiles innocently, risking just a fraction of a second to look at her hands, noticing that the glowing has stopped. And with it, the humming.

“Is my class so boring that you desire to break my furniture?” says the Professor.

“Oh, the table?” says Pinkie Pie. She looks at what is left of the splinters and smiles nervously at the Professor. “Yeah, this was like this when I got here.”

The Professor raises a brow. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“And I suppose that the desk exploded when you got here, too, but just now decided to make a ruckus.”

“That's basically what happened.”

“I see.” The Professor goes to his desk, types something on his computer and places his hands behind his back as his harsh eyes focus on them from behind the glare of his glasses. “Well, Ms. Pie, you and your team are excused from the class. Expect some unkind mail soon.”

“Oh, come on!” says Pinkie Pie. “How about you just kick me out and let my team stay. It's really not fair for them.”

“Agreed!” says Trixie. “Trixie should not have to suffer a lost lecture because of a nincompoop.”

Pinkie Pie's shoulders sag with a loud, disappointed groan and the Professor looks at Trixie impatiently.

“If you truly cared about your grade in this class then you would be actually taking notes. Not looking through a phone catalog,” says the Professor.

The whole class looks at Trixie, and she seethes and gently closes her notebook.

“I was listening,” says Trixie.

“No you weren't,” counters the Professor. “Dismissed. All four of you.”

Pinkie Pie huffs, gathers her things, helps Rarity pack her books and supplies, and then she grabs Applejack's wheelchair and carefully guides her to the exit with her team in tow. She is not looking at the class because she is looking at her hands. They feel like they are ripping, but the pain is fading. Besides, she does not need to look to know of the condemning eyes trailing them. She can feel them like the eyes of predators tracking their preys.

The trek to the exit felt a lot long than it should have, and as Pinkie Pie pushes open the door she sees most of Team AVAS looking at her. The only one who isn't staring at her is Adagio, and that is only because she is scribbling in her notebook.

“Remember, you win as a team, you lose as a team. You are one entity,” says the Professor.

Pinkie Pie looks over her shoulder, frowning and really wanting to scream something mean at him, but her mind is a blank slate.

“Also, I'm expecting you four to complete the section four book report of Star Swirl's Book of Aura,” says the Professor. “I would prefer it if you didn't blow up the classroom when you turned it in.”

“I'll blow you up, you jerk,” grumbles Pinkie Pie among the snickers of the students.

“What was that?” says the Professor.

“She said-” starts Sonata, but a quick hand from Vinyl Scratch covers her mouth, reducing the rest of her sentence to: “Mrll blr er mrp yr jrph..”

“She said she'll get it done,” says Adagio.

The Professor hums skeptically. “Sure she did.”

Pinkie Pie nods to Adagio. “Thanks.”

“Whatever. Just go. You're interrupting the class,” says Adagio.

Pinkie Pie nods and leads her team out, and once they are in the hallway Trixie slams the door shut and turns to Pinkie Pie, red faced and hands balled into tight fists.

“Well, that's just great! We're getting reprimanded on top of being tracked!” says Trixie. “Next thing you know we'll be getting expelled!”

Pinkie Pie sighs and turns to Trixie, smiling. “And I will love that so much.”

“Why would you want to be expelled?” asks Rarity. “If you get expelled from an Academy you are basically blacklisted from any government position.”

“Its because I don't want to be here and I don't want to work for the government. I wanted to be a baker, but noooo I have to be here and blow up desks and watch people I'm supposed to take care of get mauled by a crazy old guy,” says Pinkie Pie.

Applejack grabs Pinkie Pie's wrist and tries to look her in the eyes, but she jerks away and turns slightly so she does not have to see her cousin's eyes.

“Pinkie, I know your upset about how that night turned out. Heck I'm still mighty ticked about it," says Applejack, patting her bandaged leg. "But let's be honest, here, we all agreed to go look for Trixie and there was no way we could have known that that night would have gone down South like that, so what happened wasn't your fault."

Trixie balks. “What? Don't go blaming your lack of legs on me! If anything, this whole thing is Rarity's fault because she is the one who emotionally compromised Trixie with her anti-Tsuinite rhetoric.”

Rarity scoffs in disgust. “Oh, really? If we're going to play that game then need I remind you that it was a Tsuinite that stole my phone and electrocuted us which then landed us in this mess?”

“Yes, well-” Trixie clears her throat, then points an accusing finger at Pinkie Pie. “If we didn't go on your stupid 'team bonding' trip then Rarity would not have been robbed and we would have been spared heartache and bodyaches.”

“Oh, of course!” Pinkie Pie throws her hands up. “Go on! Blame the leader! That's my role as Team Leader. Blame me. Blame blame blame blame blame me, just blame me for everything. Gosh!”

Pinkie Pie stomps the floor and the bracelet screeches as a blue sonic boom erupts from beneath her feet that shakes the floor and leaves a circle of cracks in the tile that spread along the walls and ceiling. Some light fixtures pop loose and dangle from the ceiling, showering the girls with sparks and broken plaster. The door to the class they were formerly part of beeps and a red light flashes above it, and all four girls look up at the gaping hole in the ceiling with the light fixture twirling and swinging sporadically. Seconds later they slowly turn their petrified gazes to Pinkie Pie, and she looks at all of them, tapping her fingers together and forcing a smile.

“Anybody want to play a board game?” asks Pinkie Pie.

"Girl, you got a condition," says Trixie.